


Returning Home

by nezvmii



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Gen, Myths & Legends of No. 6 Zine, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:27:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23178460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezvmii/pseuds/nezvmii
Summary: When Nezumi returns, a visit to the forest of his people is a must.
Kudos: 7
Collections: Myths and Legends of No. 6





	Returning Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the No.6 zine (@no6zine on Tumblr and Twitter).

Legend has it that the last Singer disappeared from No. 6 during the aftermath of the havoc wrought by the sovereign Elyurias. The fall of the Correctional Facility and the governing body uncaged the city, blessing residents of No. 6 and West Block alike with freedom. It was all thanks to the two boys who risked their lives to put a stop to the destruction brought about by the government’s abuse of Elyurias’ power. While the Singer chose to leave, the white-haired survivor, forever marked by the sovereign’s wrath, was left behind to rebuild.

The two were destined to reunite again four years later. When the Singer returned on a cool morning in early spring, No. 6 was almost as he had left it. The wall still stood, for the most part, but with marked differences. First, the gates were thrown wide in welcome. Second, a large chunk was missing from the wall where the Correctional Facility once stood. With the smoke and rubble long cleared from the area, the bright skies and the rising structures of West Block—slowly rebuilding in the years since the Manhunt—peered into the bustling streets of No. 6.

Nezumi entered the reformed Holy City with relative ease, strolling through the gates from West Block. No one gave him a second glance. The last time he had entered the city, he had been wounded and unconscious, draped across the backseat of a stolen car. This was definitely a nice change of pace. He grimaced, imagining Rikiga at the wheel as they barreled through the flaming gates in the wake of the collapsing Correctional Facility. The people of West Block were no longer categorized as criminals, the city’s filth—now they were treated as equals and welcomed within the walls with open arms. This was likely due, at least in part, to Shion’s influence.

Without any sort of pomp and circumstance, the Singer strolled through the doors of Karan’s bakery in Lost Town. A little bell jingled, alerting Shion to his presence. The white-haired man looked up from the glass case he was stocking with freshly baked muffins, a radiant smile on his face and a greeting on the tip of his tongue. But the moment he discerned the identity of his customer, his voice caught in his throat and the pan of muffins promptly fell from his hands.

The hours following Nezumi’s return flew by, a blur of smiles and chatter, and even a few tears shed on Shion’s part, over slices of Karan’s signature cherry cake. They had four years’ worth of catching up to do, and Shion couldn’t seem to get through it all fast enough. He wanted to know everything Nezumi had experienced on his travels—if he was alright with divulging that information, of course—and in return, Shion wanted to make sure Nezumi heard every last detail of all that had transpired in No. 6 while he was away. With all that had been accomplished in just four years’ time, it was clear to Nezumi that Shion’s efforts as a member of the city’s Restructural Committee had most certainly not been in vain.

High on Shion’s list of improvements to show Nezumi were the forests. Nezumi had glimpsed them in the distance prior to entering the city, but had not yet had the opportunity to witness their growth up close. The former leadership’s strict control of the plants and wildlife both within and outside the city had been carefully dismantled to allow nature to take back what rightfully belonged to it. Shion wanted Nezumi to see the forests in a state closer to what they had been when he lived there with his people as a child. It was his welcome back gift.

They set out from the bakery mid-morning a few days after Nezumi’s arrival. Shion’s pace was quick, a bounce in his step as he led the way. He kept glancing back to Nezumi who, still weary from his travels, trailed behind him. The forest began not far outside the walls. An open expanse of low grass steadily gave way to taller weeds and bushes, newly-blooming wildflowers and saplings, and, eventually, towering trees. The forest was thriving without the encroachment of human life. Shion looked expectantly at Nezumi as they walked, a smile tugging at his lips. Gray eyes darted around to take in their lush surroundings as they slowly ventured deeper and deeper into the woods, following the overgrown remnants of a dirt path long worn into the soil.

After a time, Nezumi’s footsteps slowed and he trailed further and further behind Shion. As the white-haired man continued walking, he began to blend into the trees and Nezumi nearly lost sight of him. Rather than call out to him, Nezumi stopped completely in the middle of the path and stood still. His eyes slid shut as he allowed himself to feel the forest surrounding him. The sun broke through the trees to warm his upturned face. The light whoosh of the breeze as it rustled his hair and the delicate sound of birds chirping tickled his ears. He inhaled the clear air, thick with the smell of earth and pine. It was quiet. Serene. His heart felt light in his chest.

When he opened his eyes, Shion had completely disappeared from view. The sound of rustling leaves caught his attention, and his gaze snapped to his right, catching sight of movement a little ways away off the dirt path. There was _definitely_ something there—an animal, no doubt. Now, humans were but intruders on their natural habitats. Not like the Forest People who had once lived here. He didn’t move so as not to scare the creature away. His eyes remained fixed on the dark shape moving through the underbrush, hoping that perhaps he could see the kinds of animals that dwelled there.

Much to his surprise, he quickly realized that the creature wasn’t an animal at all. In fact, it was shaped like a small human. A _child_. The young boy’s dark hair reached the middle of his back. Tiny arms protruded from the large sleeves of an oversized tunic, struggling to clutch a much-too-large woven basket that brimmed with foraged berries and greens. He teetered through the underbrush and out of sight. Nezumi didn’t dare call out to the boy, but something within him urged him forward, to follow. He complied with little hesitation. Scanning the underbrush, he once again spotted the head of dark hair that, strangely, reminded him of his own. He picked his way carefully along, making sure not to trip over rocks and roots, straying further from the path with each passing moment. Nezumi worried about leaving Shion behind, but he felt it was necessary to satisfy his curiosity.

They walked for a long while. Finally, the child broke into a clearing. Nezumi stopped at the outskirts, keeping out of sight. He surveyed the area, taking in the handwoven baskets of foraged food items similar to what the child had been carrying, the fire pits, and the densely packed areas of foliage and branches that he realized must have been shelters. This was a _village_. Just as he had the thought, the underbrush lining the clearing began to stir and blur. Something began to materialize from the trees. With bated breath, he watched as the forms of people slowly began to take shape, silently drifting past the treeline and into the clearing. These people lived as one with nature, their homes and bodies blending into the woods. _The Forest People_.

As the village filled with people of all ages clad in flowing tunics, Nezumi began to take careful steps forward until he emerged into the clearing. Nobody seemed to pay him any mind. Adults cooked stew, hung laundry, wove baskets, whispered to one another. Children helped their parents and played together in the dirt, their gentle giggles ringing through the air like a bird’s chirps. Nezumi walked among them in silent observation.

He spotted the little boy once again. But what caught his attention wasn’t the child, but the strikingly familiar pair of adults to which he had run. Nezumi had the sudden urge to run to them himself, but found that his legs would not move. The man bent down to speak to the boy, patting his head gently. The woman beside him had flowers twined into her braided hair. She held an infant in her arms. Nezumi squinted. They were close enough that he should’ve been able to see their faces, and yet he couldn’t quite make out their features. They were blurred, as if he were looking at an old, worn photograph. He felt a heaviness in his chest, accompanied by a feeling he couldn’t quite identify.

He didn’t know how long he stared at the family, but he forced himself to look away when he sensed a commotion around him. The people of the village had begun to stir, abandoning their current activities to gather at the center of the clearing. Before he even realized it, Nezumi was walking alongside them, drawn forth with the crowd. A series of circles took shape, the Forest People clasping hands and forming rings around a central clearing. Nezumi suddenly found himself within the innermost circle. To his left stood the young boy he had followed, and to his right, an elderly woman. In the center, he could see the object of all of their attention.

The brain of an animal rested on a bed of leaves and flowers, laid carefully upon an old tree stump. The sunlight filtered through the trees, perfectly illuminating the pinkish gray mass. Nezumi looked down into the familiar gray eyes of the child beside him, mirroring his own. The boy said nothing, but took his hand, tiny fingers gripping Nezumi’s much larger ones. He then felt another wrinkled hand clasping his from the right and turned to meet the gaze of the old woman who had saved him so long ago. He turned back to face the brain in silent understanding.

As one, the crowd parted their lips and let the melody flow.

_“The winds sweep away souls, and people snatch away hearts. Oh earth, oh rain and wind, oh sky, oh light, please harbor everything in this place. Please harbor everything in this place, and thrive in this place. Oh souls, oh hearts, oh love, oh yearnings, please return to this place, and abide here forever.”_

Nezumi closed his eyes and let the music swallow him whole.

_“The winds sweep away souls, and people snatch away hearts. Nevertheless, I shall remain in this place, and continue singing. Please, somehow, send my song to where it must reach. Please, somehow, receive and accept this song of mine.”_

“Nezumi?”

The song faded. When he opened his eyes again, he realized he hadn’t moved an inch.

Shion stood in front of him, hands on his hips, tilting forward to stick his face close to Nezumi’s skeptically. “Are you alright?”

Nezumi breathed in the clean forest air. The tune echoed faintly in his ears, drifting on the wind. “I think so,” he replied. After a pause, he took Shion’s hand and let the other man lead him down the path into the forest of the present, humming softly to himself.


End file.
